The Brush and The Charger
by SoulxKeeper
Summary: First impressions never usually last, and even though that charger won't stop splatting you, maybe they're not all that bad after all.
There was little more to being a brush user than swishing it left and right before dipping oneself into the ink, swimming a bit, and then rinse and repeat… right? Well, you could certainly say that, if you had never used a brush before, but if you had told that to Bravo he would probably give you a good few slaps of his own brush, if only to make you realise how stupid you sounded.

He wasn't the _best_ brush user by any means, he was fairly average. He got a few splats a round and usually had a pretty good splat to splatted ratio at the end of every turf war—except this one.

It was the charger, and Squid's law dictates that the better charger is **always** on the opposite team. He cannot help but swear under his breath whenever he reminds himself of those horrid laws of Turf War, but they existed purely to screw him over. So here he is. Trapped on Walleye warehouse, a pointer being aimed in his general direction, and just when he thinks it's safe to swim out.

Nope.

Bravo can feel his body rupturing from the inside, ink'sploding into a lovely green mess before his life's essence flies back to safety and his body re-forms with a shiver rolling down his back and rippling the freshly hardened ink. He hates being splatted, it's why he picked one of the sneakier weapons.

The brush has many uses. You can hide and flank people quickly, your special is usually loaded rather fast due to the amazingly quick coverage the bristles gave you, and while he has no Kraken… he figured that his Inkstrike would be useful to flush the charger out.

Nope.

One can easily tell an experienced charger from one who has only just started using one, and this kid seemed like he had been using it since he was learning how to wiggle his tentacles. This kid new how to snap his sighs, knew tell-tale signs, predicted so easily it was like he had this down to pure reflex. Now that Bravo thought on it, he probably _did_. He heaves another small curse under his breath and tries again.

And again.

And again.

He could splat everyone else on the field, but the charger was too quick. He managed to flush him out of his hiding place by sneaking an Inkstrike behind him, but just as he dodged to the left and finally thought that his bristles might get him justice…

The familiar sensation of bursting fills his body.

If only to make it worse, he can _feel_ the kid smirking with every shot he hits. It's frustrating the brush user to his very core, and he just wants to smack the guy silly. He inhales deeply to calm himself- he knows that getting angry won't help him win, but the charger's team is already advancing so quickly there's little doubt in his mind that the charger will only move a little bit forward.

He's on the mid tower, and if Bravo could just get close he could splat him.

Haha, what a funny thought that was! Bravo could barely get out of his spawn without one of the green inklings popping him like a damn bubble and letting the round end on a humiliating defeat. His team casually blamed him for it.

'You weren't being hidden enough', 'you were too obvious', 'your Ink strikes were horribly placed'.

He didn't see them doing much better either, but instead of snapping back like an angered crab, he bites his tongue and lets the criticism bounce off his chest. Watching them walk away was more enjoyable than fighting with them, and he honestly questions his choice in friends whenever they pull this stunt. Criticise the newbie, make him feel like he was the worst member of the team when they were offering no real support either. They were a mess. His hand reaches up to rub at his eyes, no. He's not crying. Don't even humour the thought.

"Hey, you alright?"

Well, if there was one phrase which could simultaneously cause him to burst into tears of frustration and also scare the living coral out of him, it was somebody saying that from behind. He turns to face the cause of the voice.

Only to feel his face scrunch up in disgust.

Seriously?

Of all the damn kids to ask him if he was alright, it was the one person who repeatedly burst him over and over again?

"You have n-no right t'ask that." Is the rather salty response, earning an almost… worried? Is that worry? He uses his sleeve to dry up any amount of tears spilling from his eyes and curses his inability to speak properly while upset. "I… guess I don't, but I heard what they were saying and honestly that's no way to talk to a squad member who was trying twice as hard as they were."

"Wait… what?" The praise is surprising, baffling even. Though upon closer inspection, without that dumb smirk, the charger was actually pretty decent. The seemingly permanent deadpan expression was twisted with a rather small amount of worry and concern. His hand comes to fiddle with his collar, shoulders relaxing. "You splatted me so many times! How was I any good when you could predict me like I was a level one again." Sure, he was only level 10, so he should be by no means amazing at his weapon, but it was humiliating to be dominated so easily.

"That's because I know these areas like the back of my hand, I use a process of elimination… you're predictable to _me_ , and I have to be just as quick on my toes 'cause else I'll get splatted." The charger leans to a side and blinks at the brush user, before chewing his lip for a moment and making a vague hand motion. "I'm Alpha, by the by."

"Blue, but people call me 'Bravo' because that's less 'cheesy'." He reaches a hand out, for shaking of course, it's only polite. But the charger seems to flinch away from the almost contact, so Bravo makes his hand retreat. "Sorry I uh-"He's quick to apologise for the sudden action, not entirely expecting Alpha to back away from the hand.

"No, it's fine, you didn't know." Alpha offers a barely detectable smile before reaching his fingers to his lips and then moving his hand away from his lips and flattening his palm slightly. He recognises that as a 'nice to meet you' gesture, and returns the action in favour. It made sense. "Touch isn't something I'm entirely comfortable with, so I use a charger." The explanation helps and Bravo thanks him for explaining it. It would've been awkward otherwise.

The more Bravo looks at the charger; the subtler details he notices. The other has grey eyes, a pale complexion, he's wearing gear that really doesn't go with his weapon, he stands straight-backed like his weapon taught him proper stature. "Do you stare at everyone you meet, or am I just lucky?" Bravo feels his cheeks cooling and darts his eyes in another direction, trying to stop his blood pulsing against his face at being called out on his observation of the other's face.

Alpha doesn't seem to care much for his blushing though, and for that, he's rather thankful.

"If you can, would you like to Turf war some other time?" The subject is rather quickly changed from before, and Bravo's eyes flit back to the other, cheeks still freezing but his heart calming down a little, giving him room to actually think. "It's understandable if you don't, I mean, I frustrated you practically to tears…" his voice seems to fade slightly with an ounce of guilt.

"No it's fine, I'll never learn if I don't keep playing… maybe you can uh…" oh, how does he phrase this properly without it sounding like he's begging for help? "Teach me?" That could've been worded better. "I mean, not teach me how to be a charger, that'd be silly… but teach me how to…"

"Counter a charger?" Alpha finishes rather helpfully, and Bravo smiles in thanks and nods slowly. Knowing how to counter would certainly help. "I don't know if I could help you, seeing as uh," he makes a few motions and babbles his lips, "I don't like the whole, 'being touched' thing." Bravo supposes that he could always get close but not actually splat- though the chances of him getting close are so slim anyway that maybe Alpha trying to teach him isn't a good idea.

"If… I somehow manage to get close I just… won't splat you?" Of course, that would be practically throwing the game, getting rid of the pressure is the point, but it's the only way he'll be able to learn. Alpha seems amused by the idea but shakes his head.

"You can't get close unless I miss, which would teach you nothing in the long run, other than how to dodge a charger who can't aim." Alpha replies and leans to the side before offering a small sigh, "I could try and teach you how to dodge better by aiming at you and tracking you with my sight so you know where you're going wrong, but that would have to be in private." It would give about as much result as missing, seeing as how there is no penalty to moving wrong, but it might help him a little?

"That might help?" Bravo chews on his lip in thought before deflating in defeat and shaking his head. "Who am I kidding, it wouldn't work. With no punishment there's no real learning involved. If I'm not being splatted, I'll just keep making the same damn mistakes." Naturally, there would be no easy way around this. He scuffs his foot against the floor and averts his gaze to try and think of another way to actually help him learn without the need to splat or be splatted.

"The only way you're going to learn is by practicing and gaining feedback that lets you realise your mistakes." Alpha says, tapping his own chin in mild thought before straightening back up. "In other words, you would have to turf war with me and other chargers and examine our patterns and find out good ways of countering." Alpha's weight seemed to unevenly shift, obviously uncomfortable with the idea that one day he could splat them, but Bravo probably wouldn't. Not because he didn't want to, but because he felt that if he were able to get so close as to splat the other, Alpha might break down. A fear of being touched didn't go hand in hand with being splatted too well. It was a dumb mind set to have- you splat the opponent, you win.

But this was Turf War, and not ranked, so he supposes that it's not all too bad if he gets close but doesn't splat the other. "If I get close… you know I won't splat you, right?" Bravo's voice wavers despite how quiet he says it. Though it's a rather large 180 in feeling than what he had while playing. Around twenty minutes ago he wanted nothing more than to spread the other across the field with blue ink, and now he's reluctant to even get close.

He's so weak.

Alpha exhales rather deeply and before words even come out of the charger's mouth, Bravo can sense exactly what the other is going to say. "That's a really dumb thing of you to do… but I appreciate it." Bravo offers a half-hearted laugh at the statement, he expected the other to call him dumb for it, but he didn't expect the appreciation the other felt about it. It's not long before the other's team is calling him back over, and Bravo feels his stomach drop.

He'd have to reunite with his own team sooner or later, and it seems like his misery is rather easily noticed by his new found enemy-turned-friend. "You're welcome to come along in my group, by the way… just holler if you want to." Alpha rather quickly gets out his phone and brings up his number for Bravo to tap into his own phone, and after sending each other a rather brief text to make sure the numbers work, Alpha waves a small 'goodbye' and heads back to his group to get the next train out.

Bravo…

Well, he just can't believe his luck.


End file.
